


You Better Werk

by sweetbutterbliss



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is the most beautiful creature Eames has ever seen. From the top of his curly head, all the way down to his long pale feet, Eames is in love. Or smitten, at least. Okay, it's all lust. But Eames has good, honest intentions. He honestly intends to bury his cock in that sweet arse, while bendy Arthur has his knees somewhere around his ears and it'll be so good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Better Werk

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [ Heather. ](http://theshorteststack.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Inspired by this kick ass [ show ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIh47AtGZT0) from designer Marco Marco. It's got lots of shirtless guys in speedos, so if you hate that kind of thing don't watch it.

Arthur is the most beautiful creature Eames has ever seen. From the top of his curly head, all the way down to his long pale feet, Eames is in love. Or smitten, at least. Okay, it's all lust. But Eames has good, honest intentions. He honestly intends to bury his cock in that sweet arse, while bendy Arthur has his knees somewhere around his ears and it'll be so good. 

 

Eames is the hot designer 'du moment'. The things he can do with paisley have Anna Wintour salivating. Arthur is the completely unimpressed model. He leans against the wall and examines his fingernails while everyone else fawns all over Eames, as is their wont. Arthur always has a snarky comment handy for whatever design Eames chooses for him. 

 

He'll put it on, and sashay out onto the runway, one hand on his hip, never teetering in his colossal heels, and the bored expression never leaving his beautiful face. 

 

Eames loves to watch Arthur change backstage, his lithe body rapidly unveiled, and too rapidly covered up again. If that makes Eames a 'creepy pervert' (as Arthur has been known to yell at him on occasion), then so be it. Eames would die a happy, creepy pervert for one glimpse of that pert little bum.

 

When Arthur chooses to dress himself, there's barely any skin showing. Unlike his peers, who favor slouchy jeans and tiny t-shirts, Arthur wears suits. Three piece suits, with a tie and cufflinks. He doesn't mess around. It's truly a pleasure to watch Arthur unwrap himself for a fitting. Eames always hires Arthur; gives him the most, and the best outfits, complimenting him lavishly, recommending him to other designers. Yet, Arthur still won't give him the time of the day. Well, he does if Eames asks, but it's usually met with a frown and a '1:15, you idiot."

Eames is worried he might be being conditioned to be turned on by angry looks and insults. He has to jerk off after almost every interaction with Arthur. His dick is starting to chafe. He's baffled, usually, all he has to do is smirk in the general direction of a model, and they whip their pants off and fall to their knees in adoration. Adoration via cock sucking.

 

Why doesn't it work on Arthur? 

 

Arthur is especially scowly today as he stomps up to Eames.

 

"What is this?!" Arthur holds up a neon colored scrap of fabric in his fist.

 

"It's your ending outfit, darling. Don't you like it?" Eames blinks innocently.

 

"I hate everything you design, and you know it. This is not clothing, this is leftover fabric scraps!"

 

"Doesn't it fit you? I'd be happy to check it and make adjustments if you need me to."

 

"You are the biggest, douchey pervert I've ever met." Arthur turns on his heel, and stomps off. He spends the next few days of rehearsal scowling even more than usual at Eames. Eames' excitement over seeing Arthur squeezed into the tiniest bathing suit known to man has diminished drastically over all the hostility.

 

He consoles himself with one of the other models; Antonio has a very sweet face and an even sweeter bum. That taken care of, Eames sits at his drafting table with his chin in his hand. What to do about Arthur... He's idly sketching as he wool gathers, until he notices his drawing start to take shape. He finishes his drawing in earnest now, grinning happily to himself. He races off to his fabric room and begins dragging bolts of cloth out of their cubbies. He spends all night and day in his work room, sewing, and yelling crazed at anyone who dares to interrupt him.

 

The night of his debut at Fashion Week, he's running around checking hair and make up. He's asked a few of his queen friends to help him out and he meets with them, fielding last minute questions and doing emergency stitch ups.

 

"Eames. What is this?" Arthur isn't yelling this time, just standing quietly, holding up the new outfit Eames has made for him.

 

"I thought you of all people would recognize a bespoke suit when you see it, darling."

 

"Well yeah, but what happened to the...swimsuit." He rolls his eyes, ever hostile, even in the face of a peace offering.

Eames shrugs. "I thought you'd like it. And I found someone else to wear the swimsuit."

 

"I do like it." Arthur looks like he's chewing on his own tongue, and finally spits out. "Thanks." Then he walks away.

 

***

 

The show is going swimmingly, no one has tripped, or missed a cue. Arthur is waiting for his last cue, all done up in his new suit, which fits like a glove. He smooths down his tie and checks that his pocket square is angled just right. 

 

"You look bloody gorgeous, and without a single fitting. Guess I'm just that good." 

 

Without turning around, Arthur smirks. "Or you've just been staring at me for so long, that my measurements are burned into your brain by now."

 

"Perhaps."

 

Arthur turns around, and actually gasps. Eames is mostly bare, his broad chest covered in tattoos and hair. His hipbones, and the beginnings of his happy trail are clearly visible above a tiny, neon green swimsuit. Also visible is his cock, poking out of the top. Arthur unconsciously licks his lips. 

 

"Eames, that's obscene." He doesn't say it like it's a bad thing, he seems more happy about it than anything.

 

"Right, well I can't get it to all fit in." Eames shrugs. 

 

"I could help." Arthur approaches, and rests his hands on the elastic waistband. They're oblivious to everyone around them, hustling past. 

 

"As much as I'd love your help, I'm not sure that's going to actually...nnngggnn."

 

Arthur plunges his hand in, and wraps his long fingers around the thick, uncut cock. He strokes it a few times, and leans forward to bite at Eames' nipple. 

 

"Does that help?" Arthur whispers into Eames' ear. Eames, unable to form words, nods and grips Arthur's shoulder. Arthur pulls back a little to admire his handiwork. He slides a thumb over the tip, and licks off the pre-come. Eames' eyes go a little hazy, and he moans Arthur's name.

 

He _is_ actually obscene now, the spandex is stretched to its limit. His erection is straining up and out, the head resting fully exposed on his stomach, purple and drooling pre-come. He's panting, and has tugged his hair out of place. 

 

Arthur hears his cue and smiles meanly, then pushes Eames out onto the catwalk. Eames, to his credit, only stumbles a little and starts his walk. There's a pause, and then wild clapping and whoops. Eames grins and waggles his dick in the faces of the front row. He flips a V at the end and twirls, cupping his package and licking his lips. He turns and starts back, pulls Arthur onto the stage with him, and then does another lap arm in arm with his scowly faced darling. 

 

As they end the show, everyone crowds around Eames backstage, praising him for his daring surprise. Arthur stands to the side for about two minutes before reaching into the center of the mob, the sycophants scattering like birds taking flight at one glare from Arthur. He drags Eames back behind a rack of clothes and abruptly yanks the swimsuit down around his thighs.

 

"You are not allowed to wear this in public ever again. You understand?" 

 

"Of course, anything you say darling." 

 

Arthur gets on his knees in his bespoke suit, and takes Eames' balls in his mouth one at a time, rolling them around and sucking gently. Eames grips the clothes rack to keep himself upright. Arthur licks up the underside of Eames' cock, and then sucks a little at the head, licking in the slit, looking up at Eames, smiling around his mouthful. Eames puts his head back, and moans loudly. Arthur takes him down and gives Eames the slowest, filthiest, most amazing blow job he's ever had. Eames has stopped forming complete words or thoughts, he's concentrating so hard on not thrusting into Arthur's mouth, until he feels his balls tighten, and then he just can't help it. He holds Arthur's head and thrusts two or three times, then comes hard with a one last loud moan.

 

Arthur stands and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

"So, are you going to take me home and fuck me, you dirty perv?" Arthur grins and Eames had no idea he even had dimples. Eames knows he's in trouble as he nods and kisses his taste out of Arthur's beautiful little mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> My [ tumblr!](http://sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com/)


End file.
